Fine, Good Humans

I’m not a competitive person which is why I think I tend to do things solo. Life is hard enough without trying to keep up with others. Sometimes I wonder if this makes me a difficult mom to have, one that just doesn’t buy into all of the stuff—club sports and the necessity of a traditional college route for that matter. Don’t get me wrong, I believe, wholeheartedly, in sports and higher ed. We, as a species, are supposed to keep moving and learning. What I don’t believe in is how crazy competitive it has become. What are we trying to help our youth achieve? Success? Fortune? Happiness? All of the above? My therapist once admitted frustration with working with parents who are desperately trying to help their children overcome mental health struggles yet cannot seem to embrace a less is more approach, thereby never achieving dominance over those struggles. I’m just over here parenting and pumping the brakes. I don’t think I’m alone.

I don’t say any of all that to provoke debate or make any one feel bad for embracing that world because, trust me, I get it. I simply don’t have what it takes to keep up in that world and I am finally ok with that. Over the past ten years, I’ve been in survival mode. If my kids are fed, clothed, schooled, scolded, and loved. I consider that a win. I want the best for them, of course. But when the “best” absorbs all of our free time and money, I don’t know if it is really “best” for my family. “That’s ok” I have to tell myself all the time. I do enough, we do enough.

As the holidays approach and we read our kids’ wish lists, I think it would be good for all of us to stop a minute and think about what wishes we have already granted just by being us. Food, shelter, healthcare, and love are some pretty big needs/wants these days and if you’re providing that for yourself and others, go you. If you find that it is hard to fulfill the wants, that’s ok. When my son broke out yet another expensive wish for his list, I told him he might need to consult that international sugar daddy aka Santa to make that come true. I have aimed to lower their expectations every year and, finally, I can tell it a little more like it is—unrealistic.

I am a child of the 80s, the generation that had our parents fighting one another at Child World for a Cabbage Patck Kid in order to fulfill our dream. Since then, we have kept up that fervor and have added on other competitive factors that have left people like me feeling less capable of making it in this world. I, somewhat radically, reject that with every fiber of my being and soul. That is not what the human spirit is all about. Tonight, I think about the dueling cauldrons of chicken soup that Meg made for a dear friend who has just been diagnosed with an aggressive non-hodgkins lymphoma and her calling their calibration to this new “normal” as tantamount to being asked to conduct an orchestra without ever holding a baton. Suddenly, their holidays have shifted from wish lists to survival and everything else seems trivial. I think about my neighbor who is helping a friend survive holidays during tough financial times and how I can help her. No, my kids aren’t necessarily as well equipped to compete in this world as others. I regret that they will no doubt feel that as they enter adulthood. Or, they’ll be just fine, good humans surviving this world as well as they can. My money’s on the latter.

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